


Memories Are Made of This

by GenuineSnoof



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bones just needs a lot of hugs, Dungeons - must be Tuesday, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode s02e04:Mirror Mirror, Gen, He's just bad at asking for help, Hints of pre-McKirk, Hurt Bones, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind-Rape reveal, No Plot Necessary, Poor Bones, Protective Jim&Spock, Worried Jim&Spock, mentions of PTSD and depression/anxiety, telepathic assault, triumvirate friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 09:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20468483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenuineSnoof/pseuds/GenuineSnoof
Summary: Another post-"Mirror Mirror" fic. Jim, Bones and Spock have been taken captive by telepathic aliens. Cue mind-meld reveal, angst and some much overdue comfort.





	Memories Are Made of This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Antiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antiel/gifts).

> Can't get enough of this fic trope. :) 
> 
> Thanks to Antiel for some suggestions.

"In a dungeon again," McCoy observed, giving the shackles binding his wrists to the wall behind him a playful tug. "Must be Tuesday, then. Is it Tuesday?"

"Presumably not on this planet," Spock replied from where he stood across from McCoy, also shackled to a wall. And yet his posture was still better than both McCoy's and Jim's, Jim thought. How did he do that?

"We should ask someone, given the chance," McCoy said. "Is it Tuesday on Vulcan?"

"No," Spock said.

"It is in Georgia," McCoy said, nodding. "Did you know that?" he asked Jim.

Jim, who was shackled to a third wall to McCoy's right and Spock's left, shook his head. "Nope."

They went silent for a moment, until McCoy piped up again. "What, you're not gonna tell me that its actually Saturday in Georgia or Monday or whatever?" He frowned at Spock.

"I do not know which Earth week day it is in Georgia at this moment."

"Holy shit, and you admit it?" McCoy exclaimed.

"Pretending to have knowledge one does not have is illogical," Spock said.

"Jim's my witness you said that."

"Leave me out of this," Jim said, tugging at the shackles for the umpteenth time.

McCoy watched him and shook his head. "Stop that, you'll only hurt your wrists. Spock's not doing it," he said, nodding at Spock, "and if he doesn't think it's worth trying, you shouldn't, either."

"The Doctor is quite right," Spock said. "I have tested the strength of the shackles while you were both still unconscious, and found it impossible to loosen them with mere physical force."

"That means you won't be able to, eith-"

"Yes, I know it means that," Jim snapped and sighed, slumping a little in his bonds. "Thoughts, Spock?" he asked, resigned.

"Why don't you ever go, 'Thoughts, Bones?' in these situations?" McCoy said before Spock had a chance to reply. "You insist on dragging me into them, you might as well make use of having me."

Jim cast him a wry look. "Thoughts, Bones?" 

Spock raised one eyebrow.

"I think it's Tuesday."

"That's helpful," Jim said.

Spock looked like he was considering nodding.

"Well, all right," McCoy said, "I think we should think of a way to get out of here."

"A valuable suggestion," Spock said. "I'm afraid we won't have any other choice but to wait for our captors to make themselves and their motives known."

"What if their motives are they decided they don't like visitors on their planet and they want to sacrifice us to the graboids?" McCoy asked.

Spock tilted his head, which was Jim's cue to cut in. "We'll try to avoid that then. Like we always do."

"Oh," McCoy nodded, pursing his lips. "Okay. Good thing we have a plan."

He had just finished speaking, when the plain gray door that looked strangely out of place in the stone wall unoccupied by any of them, opened soundlessly, revealing three humanoid figures clad in sparkly black uniforms. They had one large eye in the middle of their round faces, six limbs and each a head full of thin antennas like a strange copy of human hair. The antennas were constantly moving, twitching, turning, giving the tall aliens' heads a disquieting look of being covered in small snakes.

"You are the leader," one of them said to Jim. Their uniform was short-sleeved, revealing bulky blue limbs that could be arms or legs – they were walking on two of them, presumably using the four others as 'hands'. "You are Kirk."

Jim frowned. "Yes, I'm Captain Ja-"

"You are shielding," the alien said, turning sharply to look at Spock.

Spock raised one brow. "I am," he said. 

"It's bad manners to just peek into peoples' minds without asking, you know," McCoy said. 

Jim threw him a stern look, but McCoy was too busy glaring at the alien now turning to him to see it. 

"You cannot shield," the alien said. They sounded almost confused. "Why are you wasting energy on trying, Leonard?"

"That's Doctor McCoy to you," McCoy growled. "And I'm not gonna tell you twice to stay out of my head."

The alien looked at him with an expression that reminded Jim of Spock (usually when he, too, was looking at McCoy) , then turned to the Vulcan again. Jim let go of a tiny sigh of relief. He couldn't even keep track of the times he'd told his CMO to not talk back to people holding him captive,especially when they had a good height and weight advantage on him (and a lot of the humanoids they encountered did). Jim had never figured out if it was McCoy's instinctive reaction to dealing with fear or if he was just genuinenly pissed. 

The alien who had spoken walked over to stand in front of Spock and reached out one limb to touch the Vulcan's forehead. The tiniest wince wrinkled Spock's forehead; quickly reigned in, but it was clear the contact wasn't pleasant. 

"Hey!" McCoy protested, but clamped his mouth shut when one of the other two aliens grabbed his arm. 

At the sudden silence, Jim turned his head from Spock to McCoy to see him glaring at the alien. There was fear in McCoy's eyes, though, and that was something Jim had rarely seen. It was obvious the alien was communicating with McCoy in some way, the human's gaze fixed on his captor as if it was impossible for him to tear it away. 

Dread crept up Jim's spine. "What do y-" he started, but was cut off by the alien who had touched Spock.

"I will determine their worth," they said and pointed at McCoy. "Him first."

Jim's gaze jerked up to meet Spock's, as the two aliens stepped up to McCoy, who'd went rigid, his jaw clenched and hands in tight fists. He'd gone impossibly pale and was staring straight ahead as if expecting execution. Jim didn't think he'd ever seen him that terrified before and it scared him. 

"You haven't asked us anything, yet," Jim said, trying to sound diplomatic. "You don't need to use force to gather information from us, we're explorers, we don't have anything to hide."

He was completely ignored. The two aliens released McCoy from his shackles, apparently just using their minds, and forced him on his knees, both of them keeping a tight grip on his shoulder and the back of his neck respectively. 

McCoy bowed his head as much as he could while being held none too gently, his breathing audibly too fast and definitely shaky. Jim thought he saw him tremble from the tension. Whatever McCoy expected the telepathic intrusion that was clearly about to be inflicted on him to feel like, he was terrified of it. 

He wasn't even protesting or bitching – which worried Jim most of all. What had that alien told him or made him see to make him THIS afraid? 

"You can't do this, he's a Starfleet officer. We'll consider any acts of aggression against one of our own as a serious-"

"You will be quiet," the alien Jim had deemed the leader said – and Jim was. On a remote level, he noticed that he had fallen quiet, realized he had been rendered incapable of speaking for the time – but it didn't feel like any kind of force. He didn't THINK of speaking up, though he knew he wanted to. It was a strange, disquieting feeling.

The alien didn't grace him with any more attention, but was focused on McCoy now, who was kneeling on the ground, head bowed as low as he could. His hands were still clenched to fists at his side. Once the alien placed two of their limbs onto his head, burying their tendril-like extensions/'fingers' deep into his hair, McCoy flinched, trying to jerk away from the contact. The other two held on fast. 

Jim turned his head to see Spock watching the scene, eyes burning with fury in his expressionless face.

McCoy whimpered after a moment, once more trying to jerk his head away, only to have the alien's hand grab onto his cheek and force his head up, their long spindly fingers covering his forehead as if checking for fever. 

Blood was starting to sluggishly run from McCoy's nose. He groaned, a pathetic, keening sound that ended in a high-pitched half-sob, and squeezed his eyes shut. 

It was too much for Jim to endure, seeing his strong-willed, fearless friend like this, but he still couldn't say anything. He would've begged them to stop at this point, but he couldn't form the words, couldn't think them, though he felt them.

McCoy had gone from pale to downright ashen, sweat standing out on his forehead, when the alien moved their hand away. They grabbed at McCoy's hair with their other one and forced his head back to look down at him, shaking his head a little when he didn't open his eyes. Even when they shook him harder, he still refused. 

Eventually, the alien let go of his hair and McCoy hung his head again. The others withdrew their hold as well and he slumped in his kneeling position, looking utterly spent. His hand shook when he quietly raised it to wipe the blood from his nose.

"Bones," Jim found himself saying softly. He could talk again! "What've you done to him?" he asked, glaring at the alien leader. They were watching him curiously.

"We were mistaken," they said. "We perceived you all to be equals in your value. We did not know he is your property, it wasn't in your thoughts."

Jim stared at them, as they turned to watch Spock with what looked like sudden respect. "Are you in control of others on your ship as you are in control of this one?"

"I am not," Spock said. 

Jim frowned at him, looked back at the aliens all retreating towards the door. "What does that... He's our Chief Medical-"

"Jim," McCoy's quiet voice cut him off. He wasn't looking at Jim, but shaking his head slightly.

"He is of value," the alien said, unimpressed. "You made him a good slave and we will sell him for a high price. If you damage our property like you have before, you will be punished."

Jim's eyes felt impossibly wide to him – they probably were – and his speechlessness had nothing to do with telepathic force this time. He stared from the alien to McCoy, who'd sank to his bottom by now and sat hugging his knees, not looking at anyone but resolutely down at his feet.

"We will not damage him," Spock said.

Jim felt the shackles give way and lowered his arms. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spock do the same.

"We will determine your value later," the alien said. "This has been most revealing. We did not realize your true nature. We will debate." 

And with that, they vanished through the quietly opening door, leaving Jim, Spock and McCoy alone in the small room. 

Jim instantly knelt down and reached out for McCoy, who flinched away, shuffling back until his back hit the wall, still hugging his knees.

"Are you all right?" Jim asked, looking to his side to search for Spock's support. Spock had also lowered himself to the ground but kept his distance, watching the doctor with an unreadable expression.

"Yeah, 'mfine," McCoy muttered into his knees. "Hurt a bit, 'sall." He rubbed his nose. It had stopped bleeding. 

"What were they talking about? What did you tell them?"

"Nothing," McCoy muttered. He sounded eerily resigned, voice flat like it usually never was. "They grabbed it outta my mind, nothing I could do." He shuddered.

Jim shook his head. "But it's not true. To what purpose did you make them believe such... nonsense?"

McCoy drew in a shaky breath, his fingers clawing in the cloth of his uniform pants. "I didn-"

But Jim was unable to stop now that he'd started. "I don't understand. Why d'you make u-"

"Jim," Spock's calm voice interrupted him. "Doctor McCoy was in obvious distress during the intrusion. He couldn't have made up anything and not be found out."

Jim frowned, watching Spock's level gaze on McCoy, who seemed to be curling up ever tighter under their scrutiny. "But then... Bones?"

"What they took from his mind," Spock went on, "were memories he has-"

Jim opened his mouth to protest.

" - that are not his own."

Jim closed his mouth.

McCoy lifted his head the bearest bit and peeked at Spock through his lashes. 

"The question is," Spock continued after a moment's pause, "how did you get them, Doctor?"

Jim looked from him to McCoy. That dread was back again and he couldn't not touch, so he reached out to put his hand on McCoy's knee. There was no flinch this time, thank God, but McCoy didn't look at him, either, but still at Spock.

"Like you haven't figured that out already," he muttered with no heat behind the words. He looked utterly miserable, still pale and shaky and just hopelessly resigned. Like he just wanted to curl up and be left alone. Jim reflexively gave his knee a little queeze.

"I have," Spock admitted. He sounded... apologetic, Jim thought.

"I haven't. What the hell are you talking about? Whose memories are they? And why do they include..." Jim stopped. Felt all blood rush from his face. "They're the other McCoy's," he said. "Aren't they? From the other universe. The ISS Enterprise."

McCoy swallowed. He gave a tiny nod, not looking at Jim. He had resumed studying his feet.

"Why do you have his memories?"

"It doesn't matter," McCoy said in a small voice. "It was ages ago. It's not my fault Cyplocs believes the first memory they get their tentacles on."

"It matters," Spock said, "because you did not hear about what happened to your counterpart, you lived it. You remember it."

"Yeah, I know, Spock," McCoy muttered. Again what would've usually been a snapped reply was just a tired sigh. 

Jim stared at him, concern making his heart ache – and suddenly jerked his gaze to Spock. "Spock," he said. "The other Spock."

Spock nodded.

"He..." Jim looked back at McCoy, shuffled closer to try and look into his eyes. "You were alone with him in sickbay. It was him, wasn't it?"

McCoy looked like he was trying to vanish through the floor.

"What did he do to you?" Jim asked quietly.

"A mind-meld," Spock said. "He forced a mind-meld on him. Just like he apparently regularly did to his McCoy. And he shared all of that McCoy's memories of their... relationship."

McCoy huffed humorlessly. "Yeah," he said, clearly disgusted."Their 'relationship'." He sighed deeply and lifted his head at last. Traces of smeared blood where still on his face. "'msorry. I never meant for you two to find out. I musta panicked when they reached into my mind, I guess that triggered the other memories." He grimaced a little, nervously rubbing his nose. "I'm not good with..." Lacking a word, he vaguely gestured for his temple. 

"An understandable reaction," Spock said. "You've suffered considerable trauma. Most individuals subjected to a forced mind-meld cease to be able to function in society."

At Jim's horrified look, McCoy snorted. "He means they go bananas. Yeah, Spock, I read about that, thanks. Seems there wasn't much leeway in that direction in my case to begin with, so I'm fine."

"You're fine," Jim echoed.

McCoy's gaze softened. "Yeah. Don't worry, Jim. They just... stirred it all up again. That's...unpleasant." He smiled wryly. "But it was a long time ago and I dealt with it then. Let's just focus on getting out of here, can we? I got a headache."

"You never said anything. You lied in your official mission report! Why didn't you you say anything?" 

Jim tried to think back to the time after the mission. There had been the long talks to Starfleet officials about their discovery of a parallel universe. Interviews by theoretical physicists back on Earth – it had been one of their biggest finds as explorers, after all. Everyone was interested. Jim hadn't seen much of McCoy for the first few weeks, he'd been too busy. And McCoy hadn't hung out at the bridge at all during that time – Jim had assumed he'd, too, just been busy.

He knew McCoy hadn't taken himself off the duty roster, because he knew about every single time that had happened during the whole time he'd known the man and he didn't need a whole hand full of fingers to count them. 

At McCoy's slight movement, he suddenly realized he'd been gripping the doctor's knee hard enough to cause pain and released his hold on him. 

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" 

McCoy shrugged. "Didn't want to bother you with it. It wasn't like you could help and I didn't really want to discuss it."

"That's not your decision to make!" Jim exploded. "You didn't want to bother me with it?! I'm your Captain, you were assaulted on my watch, it's your duty to report it! Fuck, Bones! I told Starfleet HQ the other universe's Spock was the great chance for change, their messiah for a better world!"

McCoy flinched. "It's not like we'll run into him again, is it?"

"It is-" Spock started, but McCoy snapped, "Well, it's UNLIKELY, okay? It doesn't matter one bit if Starfleet fucking knows he's actually a dick. I didn't want anyone to know and that's that, that's my decision. You never would have, if this shit just now hadn't happened, too! If you care so much about me being assaulted – well, I just was! You'd do well to respect that you were told very private stuff dragged straight out of my head that I never wanted anyone to hear! So back off, Jim!"

"Oh no, no, no," Jim said, pointing an accusing finger at McCoy. "You're not yelling your way outta this. You had THAT crap in your head – lived it," he added, pointing at Spock as if for proof, "and you didn't tell me or Spock, didn't take sick leave, didn't... hell! Did you seek ANY medical help?"

"Yes!" 

"I believe the Captain means beyond your own," Spock said drily.

"No. Why would I? I'm a doctor, damnit, I can treat myself."

"Bullshit!" Jim yelled. He jerked his head up when he felt Spock's light touch on his shoulder. "Bullshit," he repeated in a lower voice, just for emphasis. "I let you get away with being reckless a LOT, Leonard, but this is fucking unacceptable. You can't just not tell us when-"

"Jim," McCoy cut him off, his voice soft, almost comforting. "It's been over a year ago. I'm fine." He smiled assuringly.

Jim wanted to shake him. Or punch him. Punch him, then hug him. "That's not the point," he sighed, all energy having left him at McCoy's tone. Why was it even when it was McCoy who'd got hurt it was always him comforting Jim? Surely that was some dirty trick you learned in therapy school.

"I must apologize, Doctor," Spock said.

Jim and McCoy turned to him, both frowning.

"I did notice you were distressed upon your return from the parallel universe, but didn't deem it necessary to inquire, since you seemed perfectly able to fulfill your duties. I see now that that was an error on my part."

McCoy winced. "Oh god, don't apologize! I didn't fucking WANT you to notice, okay? I dealt with it, I'm fine. We're still locked in a dungeon, by the way – can we just forget this happened and get out of here? Please?"

Jim blinked, hit by a sudden memory. "That was the time you lost so much weight," he said. 

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Does no one hear my voice but me?"

"And when I walked in on Chapel reading you the riot act about the use of sleeping aid!"

McCoy sighed loudly.

"The Doctor also exhibited signs of uncharacteristically... meek behavior," Spock said. "Which at the time I linked to exhaustion due to his tendency to overwork. Now, I believe what we witnessed were the foreign memories being triggered by the situation."

Jim's eyes flew open. "That time you called me sir!"

"I call you sir all the time," McCoy said. "You're my superior officer. I've been known to occasionally even call him sir," he nodded at Spock. "Can we just stop this now?"

"No, you called me 'sir' when I told you to pipe down and you'd never!" Jim exclaimed. "And when I said eat up and you ate all of your yellow cubes without so much as a grumble!"

"Indeed," Spock nodded.

McCoy cringed. "Well, okay, so maybe there was an adjustment period. I admit it, okay? His memories were... disturbing." He swallowed. "But I dealt with them, I'm totally fine now, I did not go crazy and we can all forget about it and focus on-"

"Why did he even do that?" Jim cut him off. "The other Spock."

McCoy shrugged. "He wanted to know who we were and he figured I wasn't gonna tell him. So he took the easy route."

"Yes," Jim said, "but why ... hurt you like that? Why deliberately put all of his McCoy's memories into your head?"

McCoy fell silent. He bowed his gaze, once more fiddling with the hems of his pant legs, as he stared at his feet.

"I believe," Spock said and Jim thought his voice sounded heavy with emotion. Not for the first time he wondered how much energy it took Spock to suppress it to the point where he thought he was fooling anyone, "the answer to that lies in the very nature of the other McCoy's memories, Captain."

Jim frowned.

"From what I understand," Spock continued, "Spock considered his McCoy infinitely inferior to himself."

"You could say that," McCoy muttered. He unconsciously hugged his legs tighter, clearing his throat.

"As distressing as the thought is to me," Spock continued, trying his vey best to not react to McCoy's raised eyebrow, "I believe his intention was to... mark our Doctor as well. He may have considered him... his as well."

A moment of shocked silence went by, Jim just staring at his friends. He felt sick.

"Can we just not talk about this?" McCoy said quietly. He'd closed his eyes and was visibly trying to keep it together. "Please?"

"... Bones," Jim muttered, so appalled his voice shook. "Wh-when they said 'slave'-"

"Jim." McCoy opened his eyes and looked at him with such desperation Jim felt his heart give a painful squeeze. "Please."

Jim swallowed and gave a curt nod. He turned to Spock, whose level gaze wandered from McCoy to him. 

"Right. Getting out of here."

Spock nodded.

"Thoughts, Spock?"

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

McCoy looked like he'd expected them, when he opened the door to his quarters. Expected them and not been looking forward to it.

His shoulders slumped and he stepped aside to let them in. "I knew it was too much to hope for," he muttered.

"We come in peace, though," Jim said and lifted the bottle he'd brought. 

McCoy's lips curled in a lopsided smile. He didn't look convinced.

Spock unceremoniously handed him a little box of chocolate.

McCoy snorted. "I guess you can take a seat," he said and followed them. There wasn't much room to sit and he sank into his chair by the desk, so Spock and Jim sat on the edge of the bed. 

Grabbing a glass from his desk, McCoy inspected it with a playful frown and handed it to Jim. "Might be clean," he said and looked at Spock expectantly.

Spock shook his head.

McCoy nodded and picked up a coffee mug to hold out to Jim. "Pour, Captain."

Jim obliged, then filled his own glass and lifted it for a toast, but McCoy had already downed half of his drink. Jim snorted and followed suit.

"I'm not telling you any of it," McCoy said. "You can forget about that right away."

"You do realize what we're imagining is probably worse than what his memories really entail," Jim said. "You'd be putting our minds at ease."

"No," McCoy said, sounding as serious as Jim had ever heard him. "I would not." 

"That's not very comforting."

"Yeah," McCoy sighed, running a hand through his hair. He finished his drink and held out his mug again for a refill. "Sorry 'bout that. It's been a long day, comforting you will have to wait till I've had some sleep."

Jim flinched at the bitterness in his voice.

"We are not here to seek your comfort, Leonard," Spock said. "Quite the opposite."

"What, you're here to be yelled at?"

Spock tilted his head the way that meant he was violently rolling his eyes.

McCoy smirked. "Right. Well, thanks, Spock, Jim – but I'm fine. You may leave the bottle and thanks for the chocolate. I'll make sure Chris knows you have a stash somewhere." He took a sip from his drink.

"Bones," Jim said, pouring all his concern and love into that one word.

It worked. McCoy deflated like a puppet with its strings cut. "I'm really, really fine, Jim," he said. He looked tired, Jim thought, so tired – like he'd just relived the worst trauma that had ever happened to him. 

"You don't have to be," Jim said.

McCoy snorted, studying the contents of his mug. "Oh no, I do."

"How did you deal with the trauma the first time?" Spock asked before Jim could reply to that. "I admit I am impressed by your resilence. It is the first account of a forced meld that I have heard of where the victim managed to overcome it without the help of a professional telepathic healer."

McCoy looked at him and smiled. "Was that a compliment, Spock?"

"Indeed."

"I guess then it's not Tuesday after all."

Jim rolled his eyes. Spock tilted his head.

"I'm a trained psychotherapist," McCoy finally answered matter-of-factly. "I know trauma."

"I believe," Spock said, "the term 'Doctor heal thyself' is – as the Captain would call it – bullshit."

Both Jim's and McCoy's gaze flew to him. Spock lifted one eyebrow.

McCoy snorted. "Well, yes. It is. But behavioral cognitive therapy is something the patient has to apply themselves, anyway. I just treated it like they were... my memories. So I..." He shrugged. "... worked through it."

"Trauma like that," Spock said, "would result in severe depression and anxiety as symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Not taking into account you yourself were grieviously assaulted by my counterpart."

"Yes." McCoy nodded and once more finished his drink. He hesitated, but when Jim lifted the bottle questioningly, held the mug out again. "So I was majorily fucked up. Not for the first time in my life, though – probably not for the last, giving I work for him," he gestured at Jim, "and I dealt with it and I cured myself as best I could and I was perfectly able to fulfill my duties as you observed yourself, and I'll be very grateful once we can stop mentioning it ever happened. You may tell me how awesome a physician I am now – once – and then we'll move on and finish the bottle in peace. All right?"

"No," Jim said.

McCoy slumped his shoulders. "Thought so," he mumbled and sipped his drink.

"Leonard-" Jim started.

"You know, you only ever call me that when you're really seriously pissed at me," McCoy pointed out.

Jim smiled, lifting one palm apologetically. "Len-" he tried again.

"Oh god, that's even worse."

"Bones – I know you're a private man. I understand that – we do," Jim added, nodding towards Spock. "But dealing with this all on your own isn't healthy. You know that, I know you do. You wouldn't let me get away with it, if you found out something like that. Or Spock. Or anyone."

"I dealt with it," McCoy said, but his words didn't hold much energy.

"The first time, yes," Jim said. "And actually badly, now that I think of it. I thought it was just one of your episodes back then, bad mood, that kinda thing - but we DID notice. M'Benga did, he barred you from sickbay for two days, didn't he?"

McCoy bowed his head.

"We all thought you were just overworked as usual. And not taking care of yourself, because that's also something you do. D'you really expect me to pretend I never heard of any of this, when I know now you suffered... what, flashbacks? Glimpses of a universe where you had every reason to fear Spock and me?"

"Not expect you to, no..." McCoy mumbled into his mug. He'd dragged his socked feet up onto his chair and curled up around his knees. It was the same posture he'd held in the dungeon, Jim noticed, and it was disturbingly contrary to McCoy's usual sprawl. 

He looked so miserable Jim's heart flew out to him. He arched his brows, desperate to help. "Why is it so hard to accept our help? We care about you, of course we want to help. You'd do the same for anyone – hell, any stranger, and you're my best friend; how can you think I could just let it go?"

"Jim..."

"You're not scared of us, are you?" Jim asked fearfully when McCoy didn't continue.

"No. I never was. Well... maybe when... you know, when I had... reactions." It didn't sound like he was happy about his choice of word but couldn't think of any other. "But I was fine once I'd done the exercises. Focus on what's real, that kinda thing."

"You shouldn't have had to go through all that by yourself," Jim said.

"He didn't have to," Spock said quietly. "He chose to, Jim."

McCoy looked up. "You know I can tell when you're mad, right? No matter how good you think your Vulcan face is."

"I'm sure that you can," Spock said.

McCoy sighed deeply. In an instant he'd gone from looking like a scared bunny to all the annoyed demenour of a reprimanded teenager. "Okay, have at it, ears. The Captain's had his say, I guess it's fair to let you have your turn."

"You are very mistaken," Spock said, "if you believe my perceived anger is directed at you, Doctor."

"Coulda fooled me."

"We both know that is untrue. I can never 'fool' you."

McCoy smiled at that and lifted his mug as if for a toast.

"The notion that you would deem it necessary to not seek help in times of emotional crisis in order to spare my... feelings," (Jim was actually proud of how almost naturally Spock managed to say the word.), "is frankly distressing. I have met both yours and the Captain's counterparts and they did not resemble either of you at all, mentally or emotionally. They were strangers to me."

McCoy pressed his lips together, clearly uncomfortable, as he forced himself to keep looking at Spock.

"That you thought Jim and I wouldn't be able to handle the truth about our counterparts' natures only adds to my assessment that you haven't really managed to distance yourself from the foreign memories forced upon you. Otherwise, you would know that we'd both gladly accept any emotional turmoil in order to support you."

McCoy stared at him, then at Jim. 

Jim smiled. "Yeah... I think that was 'we love you, you idiot' in Vulcan."

McCoy actually blushed and despite himself Jim thought it looked adorable. 

"I didn't think you couldn't... 'handle' it. I didn't want you to know. There's a difference."

"Because you were ashamed," Spock said. "Are ashamed."

McCoy swallowed, nodded. He picked at his socks, rubbing his nose against his knee. Again, he'd transformed completely and now looked as lost as a single tribble in a glass. 

"Obviously you are cognitively aware that the shame you experience is not your own," Spock continued. "The memories that cause it aren't yours."

"I know," McCoy said quietly.

Spock seemed to weigh his next words carefully, which was particularly rare for him. Jim thought his hesitation spoke volumes of how much he cared for McCoy. He wondered if Bones figured that as well and hoped he did.

"I could help you."

McCoy flinched so hard he knocked his nose against his knee and jerked his head up. "No!"

"Leonard-" Spock said.

"No!" McCoy repeated. "That's final. No way."

"Hear him ou-" Jim tried.

"No! No one's EVER getting into my head again... unless by force," McCoy added, sounding so disgusted Jim winced at it. "I swear, Spock, you don't WANT to do that. You'd have to... erase everything about that whole mission and this one just so I could ever look at you again."

"I... could do that," Spock said.

Jim stared at him, mouth hanging open and suddenly realized McCoy was as well.

"What?" McCoy asked.

"I could erase the foreign memories as well as yours of the assault itself. Jim and I would be the only ones who'd know."

McCoy gasped. "You can't mean that."

"Spock..." Jim said, but didn't know what he was even going to say. It was an option, of course. It might not even be the worst one. He looked back at McCoy, whose gaze flew back and forth between them.

Suddenly, he scrambled off his chair to retreat behind it as if to shield himself. "Fuck, you're serious!"

"Do you not think you'd benefit from-"

"No!" McCoy yelled. He'd grabbed the back of the chair to steady himself and was staring at Spock wide-eyed, just as terrified as he'd looked back in the dungeon.

Jim winced. "Maybe that wasn't the best suggestion."

"Fucking right it wasn't! 'sreally peachy you want to help, but you're NOT messing with my head! That's what HE did!"

Spock looked absolutely mortified. "I did not mean to frighten you, Leonard. I apologize. I truly do want to help."

McCoy's breathing had picked up so much Jim was tempted to go and pat his back, but he didn't think it was wise to touch him right now. 

"I know." McCoy drew in a deep breath to calm down. "I realize. It's fine. Just... don't even say stuff like that, okay?" He looked at Spock imploringly.

Spock nodded. "Understood."

McCoy nodded back, accepting the apology, and squeezed his eyes shut, still taking deep breaths. "Shit."

Jim felt Spock tense next to him and quickly squeezed his arm, trying to catch his gaze. Spock's eyes when they met his made him want to give the Vulcan a hug.

Instead, he stood and carefully approached McCoy, who was still clinging to the chair. McCoy flinched, hard, when he felt Jim's arms around him. 

"No one's gonna mess with your head," Jim said quietly, wrapping the shaking doctor into a gentle embrace. He cupped the back of McCoy's head with his hand, holding on. "It's okay, Bones."

"... fuck..." McCoy muttered brokenly. He at last pressed his forehead to Jim's shoulder. He was trembling all over, his black t-shirt clinging to his back with sweat. 

Jim held him, occasionally petting his hair, as he waited for him to relax, for the shaking to subside.

Eventually, he felt McCoy's knees buckle slightly and released him, but kept one arm around his waist to walk him to the bed. Spock stood to make room, when Jim lowered them both down onto the edge. 

McCoy's eyes were closed, his shoulders hunched up. Jim once more stroked his hair, squeezed his arm.

"Okay?" he asked.

McCoy nodded. "Sorry, Spock," he said without looking at the Vulcan.

"No need, Doctor," Spock said. "It was I who misjudged. It wasn't my intention. I would never harm you."

McCoy blinked his eyes open and smiled at him. "Yeah."

Jim looked from one to the other and dragged McCoy a bit closer against his side, gesturing with his head for Spock to sit down again as well.

Spock did, his shoulder bumping against McCoy's. 

"You don't have to tell us anything," Jim said after a long pause, the three of them just sitting closely together in silence. "We won't make you, of course. But we know now, we won't pretend we don't." He leaned his head in so it touched McCoy's. "You're not alone."

McCoy swallowed. Spock's hand moved ever so carefully and very lightly covered his where he was holding on to Jim's sleeve. 

"I'm... not good at this," McCoy said. It wasn't clear what he meant – accepting help, closeness, finding the right words, all of it. 

"No, you're not," Jim smiled. "But that's why it's such a good thing you got us, right?"

McCoy chuckled, nodding his head against Jim's. "I guess," he said, his voice sounding thick with unshed tears. "Though you are a fucking pain in the ass, both of you."

"We try," Spock said earnestly. He lifted one brow in surprised innocence at the looks he received.

McCoy laughed, wiping his eyes. "Thanks, Spock. That helped more than a year of therapy, I think."

"I'm glad," Spock said, causing McCoy to laugh even more.

"You should," Jim said eventually, "try and find real professional help this time. But you know that."

"I do," McCoy said. He sideglanced at Jim ruefully and sighed. "I might. It was hard enough the last time."

"I do realize you are an expert in Earth-based behavioral therapy," Spock said very carefully. He'd learned his lesson, Jim thought, amused. "However, if you'd allow me, I could teach you Vulcan methods of... dealing with emotions."

McCoy smirked at him, the hint of the usual spark in his eyes. "Yeah? The ones that result in one being completely literal and only having sex once in a blue moon?"

"No," Spock said, unimpressed. "Others."

"Ah, okay," McCoy nodded, matching Spock's deadpan expression. "All right, then, sure. Thanks."

Jim grinned, squeezing the back of McCoy's neck. "Like you get laid more often than that, anyway, old man."

McCoy turned huge eyes at him. "And here you JUST told me you loved me."

"No, I translated it when he said it."

McCoy snorted. "Well, in that case – fuck you, too. Sir."

"We'll see about that," Jim said matter-of-factly. He lifted the bottle. "Where's your mug, I feel like a toast."

He continued to ignore both his officers' incredulous stares, while he poured himself and McCoy another drink, then grabbed a discarded mug from a shelf, looked briefly into as if to check for insects, and then handed it to Spock.

"Toasts are for everyone," he said. 

"What are we drinking to?" McCoy asked, when Jim had stopped pouring for Spock.

"Tuesdays." Jim shrugged as if it was understood.

McCoy grinned. "Yeah, I'll drink to that."

"It is," Spock said, "actually Friday in Georgia."

McCoy jerked his head to him. "Did you know that all along?"

Spock didn't reply, but instead briefly touched his mug to McCoy's and lifted it to his lips. Jim could have sworn it was the Vulcan equivalence of a wink.

McCoy laughed so hard he almost dropped his drink.

THE END


End file.
